


Strangers

by Constellatius



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Coming Untouched, Dirty Talk, Glory Hole, M/M, One Night Stands, Praise Kink, Slight underage, Young Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2013-10-17
Packaged: 2017-12-29 16:34:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Constellatius/pseuds/Constellatius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean meets Castiel one night in a seedy bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strangers

**Author's Note:**

> Dean is 17 in this fic. Set pre series one.

They had been moving around for eight months, they travelled through the winter, leaving the snowy streets of New Jersey in the Impalas back window. Sam had whined and bitched about not being able to put down roots.

Dad was getting more and more reckless. Destroying towns, causing bar fights and carelessly throwing himself towards danger. Dean had peeled him up off the floor too many nights in a row for them to stay in town. Dad was torn and bloody from a ghost, he collapsed seventeen hours ago, bottle clutched in his hand. Dean had pulled Sam from school, packed what little they owned and drove away.

Dean blew kisses to Jersey and hit the gas. Two days later they found themselves in Pittsburgh. Dean hated this town, it was a pile of crap but Sam needed school. Pastor Jim knew of someone who would gladly hire a perfect retty face like Dean, no questions asked, cash in hand.

Sam settled into school and dad disappeared. He left with a note, twenty dollars tucked under a mug and instructions to look after Sammy.  Dean left the money for Sam as he went to work at the bar. His own note fluttering as the door slammed shut.

\-----------------------------

The bar wasn't the worse place Dean had been, sure it was sad and depressing and there were glory holes in the bathroom but it paid well and Dean got a lot of tips. Not all of them were money but his other tips were much more satisfactory.

Dean smiled politely at two drunk cougars cooing at him, he shoved Jane their way, her chocolate hair bouncing as she twirled around him. He watched as the women tutted and quickly left the bar to sit in the battered booth.

Dean shifted uneasily; he had felt eyes on him the whole night. He ignored the feeling, paranoia making his work sloppy and slow. He tosses a smile to Tim and a wink to Jane as he scoots past them for the top shelf vodka.

He feels someone still watching him even as he pours the drink. The two ladies were nowhere to be seen, probably moved on to bigger and better things. Dean shakes his head and pours the bald man in an expensive suit his vodka on the rocks. He smiles at the man to receive an eye-roll, the man leaves without a thank you or a tip. He sighs, as a group of drunken men bicker over the pool table. He wants his bed, soul exhausted from the day.

Dean is mixing a cocktail of pure sugar when he first spots the blue eyed man. He is rumpled and alone. Dean watches as he shakes off the interest of a middle age man with an impressive beer gut. The strangers eyes catch Deans, he tilts his glass towards him. The light flickers and Dean swears he sees wings.

Jane calls him way to deal with a gaggle of underage kids.

When Dean sees the blue eyes, again he is at the bar, his suit cheap and crinkled. The man looks distressed, bags under his eyes and his skin pale. He orders another whiskey neat. He comes to life as Deans finger brushes against his. His skin tightens, smile creasing the corners of his Cupid bow lips, his eyes shine like heaven trapped in a glass. He thanks Dean with a large tip. Dean watches as he strips of his tie, delicate fingers caressing the royal blue, Dean feels arousal light in his belly as the man’s collar bones are exposed. The man slides gracefully off the barstool. He swaggers to the bathroom. Tie clutched between his fingers.

Dean makes a point of not hooking up with anyone in work hours, after work is far game but he needs this job. This man is an acceptation.

He is beautiful in a masculine way, all shape lines and perfect angles, if Dean didn't know any better he would think the man is an angel. His smooth skin chiselled from the finest marble, his eyes endless depths of blue pools.

Dean follows the guy into the bathroom, throwing Jane his apron and winking at her as he hops over the bar. Dean struts into the bathroom, false swagger as his hips swing. He kicks the two men out of the bathroom, telling them he has to clean the room. He hears a shuffling from the end stall. Dean knows from personal experience that the booth is used for anonymous hook-ups.

He slides into the second from last booth, locking the door with a click. Resting his hand on his stomach, he turns

He sees the man’s cock. Long, thick and cut. The man is huge, Dean has always been a bit of a size queen, and he bites back a moan as the cock in front of him fills. He falls to his knees; they hit the cold tile with a thud. Dean shyly laps over the tip of the strangers cock. The man in front of him gasps a surprised sound. Dean wishes he could see the man’s beautiful face.

Swirling his tongue round the head, Dean palms himself through his jeans. His underwear bunches around his cock; he wishes he had forgone the annoying boxers he wears. He feels his own cock harden as the man in front of him ruts forward.

Dean teases the head of his cock, lapping over the tiny prominent veins. Dean hears the man whimper over the steady buzz of chatter. 

He tastes salty with a hint of dark chocolate. Dean feels the mystery man’s cock jerk on his tongue. Dean cups his cock, left hand awkwardly unzipping the silver zipper. He gasps around the cock lying heavy on his tongue as his cock springs free. He kisses over the small mole on the man’s perfectly curved cock, tonging the imperfections on his marble angel.

The man moans through the cheap plywood partition. Dean feels the wood shake as the man must have pushed his head forward to hit the wood, he chuckles around the head of his leaking prick, lapping at the salty drops. The man thrusts forward, moaning as Dean engulfs him fully in his warm and wet mouth, practise allowing him to deep throat the stranger in one go. Dean pushes his jeans and boxers over his ass, pulling his cock out of it confines.

His underwear stained with precome, his hand curls around his aching prick. Dean groans around the cock in his lips, he hears the stranger moan, his hips thrusting forward, frustrated noise flittering over the partition.

Dean pushes himself off the man’s cock, feeling his dick slide over his tongue. Dean’s heart beats frantically in his chest as he laps at the man’s slit. His eyes flutter shut as he cups his balls, rolling them in his palm. Dean gasps breathlessly around the curve head of his leaking prick.

'Stop!' He demands. It is deeper than Dean thought it would be. It echoes through the room and bounces in Deans chest, he moans around the cock between his lips. 'I want to touch you,’ He says, a shiver runs through Dean, his cock twitching as the domineering tone in his voice. Dean laps over the leaking cock once more, wanting to memorise his taste. Dean shuffles back feet hitting the porcelain tower behind him.

'Stand up and turn around.’ Dean does as he is told, jeans and underwear pooling at his feet.

‘Spread your legs.’ Dean shuffles, feet caught in fabric, he steadies himself against the wall, bent over, ass pointing towards the glory hole. His cock drips, he tunnels his palm around himself.

‘I am going to fuck you, is that okay?’

‘Yeah…yes. Please I need…’ He gasps out, cold fingers already touching him.

‘I will give you want you need little one.’ Dean feels a palm place on his back, the man strokes over a scar from a vengeful ghost. Dean shivers as his cool touch electrifies his body.

Long fingers stroke through his crack, briefly touching his hole, Dean feels his hungry hole clenches around nothing. He needs something inside him. Feather light touches stroke over his hole, fingers circling his rim. The finger rubs the sensitive spot just behind his balls. The stranger drags his finger torturously slow over Deans perineum, he whines, hips stuttering as the man finally touches his hole. Dean’s head hits the wall, making it shake under him as he moans.

The mysterious angel teases him, finger tracing his rim oh so softly. Dean swallows down his moans. His lips bitten and abused as he is taken apart with strangers fingers.

'Don’t stop yourself; I want to hear your voice.'

Dean feels lubed fingers at his hole, they soak him. It feels cold and strange at first, Dean feels something like peace ripple through him. He trusts this man, he relaxes under the touch. The first finger slides in with little resistance. The stranger, fucks him on his finger, he twists it inside of Dean hitting his prostate with a happy gasp as Dean clenches around him, mouth falling open in a silent plea for more.

The lube makes him slick. It runs down his thighs as a second finger joins the first. Dean’s orgasm hits him with surprise. He quakes through it. Hand twitching as he gasps around the feeling of being slowly filled. The blue-eyed beauty caresses his prostate as he climaxes.

He hears the door of the bathroom slam shut and a drunken humming. Dean covers his mouth, finger still shaking. He whimpers into his palm as a third finger joins the other two. The man sweeps over his pleasure spot with careless rubs. Dean desperately fucks back on to the fingers. He needs something more, his cock still hard against his belly.

The drunken man in the bathroom hums to himself as he washes his hands, thanking the taps he leaves taking his song with him. Dean cries out as the stranger taps against his prostate.

'Please.' He begs, voice wrecked, strung out from his need. ‘I need you inside of me, please sir.’

With little warning but a small moan, the man slides his fingers out, leaving dean feeling lost and empty. He feels the stranger tease his hole with the tip of his cock. It burns as Dean swallows him up. He breathes through the pain, his cock leaks profusely against his stomach. 

He feels his hand grasp around nothing, Dean wishes he could see the man, hold on to his shoulders as he slide inside of him. The stranger rocks into him, gentle thrusts as Dean adjusts to his cock.

The stranger talks, his words washing over Dean, he feels like he is floating. The heavy buzz of the bar is gone, all he hears is his own heartbeat in his ears, his fingers tingle as he reaches behind himself. He curls his hand round the base of the stranger cock, urging him to fuck him.

‘Fuck me, please.’ He begs, tears pooling in his eyes.

Dean sighs with relief as the stranger pulls back, thrusting roughly into him. He moans as he hits his prostate, slowly dragging his cock over Dean’s pleasure base.

The stranger must lean forward, Dean feels the wood quiver, creaking under the weight of a fully grown man. He wants to touch, to kiss the man inside of him. His nails bite into his skin, gasps fill the air.

‘Such a good boy.’ The man coos, his thrusts are growing harder and faster, Dean know the other man is close. His own orgasm only starved off by the hand curled around the base of his cock. ‘I wish I could see how pretty you open up for me.’

Dean groans, his cock jumping in his hand, his knees shake, chest heaving. The marble angel’s dirty mouth is driving him closer and closer to the edge. He wants to kiss the dirty word off his lips, taste how they feel on his tongue.

‘So greedy,’ He gasps out, eyes fluttering shut. Dean clenches around him, he needs more. Harder. Faster. ‘Milking my cock, like a good boy.'

‘More, please. I need…I…more.’

The stranger falls silent; dean arches his back, the man slide further into him. His cock hitting his prostate with every thrust. Dean feels heat boil in his belly, ice smothering his legs. His arms shake and his muscles tighten.

'Come for me boy' the stranger commands. Dean comes with a shout. The heat inside him exploding through his aching muscles. He hears himself cry out a name, a foreign name on his tongue, a language not his own. For a second he thinks he sees a bright blue light.

The man fucks him through his orgasm. Deans hole flutters around his cock, his chest heaving and body breathless. Dean feels the man come inside of him with a gasp, heat burns over his skin and the lights flicker. He comes again with a whimper of pain, his cock soft and aching. His legs give way.

\------------

 

Dean wakes to his motel room.

Cool winter air brushes over his skin. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he sees the window has been left open. Sammy probably forgot to shut it.

He wonders how he got home, everything seems distant, like he is remembering a story someone else told him. He remembers the blue-eyed stranger fucking him in the bathroom, and his legs giving way, he remembers wings and gentle hands. He remembers perfectly pink lips on his own and prayers to a god be doesn’t believe in.

His body aches, chest tight with loss. He shivers pulling the covers over himself more he finds it is a tanned trench coat. Reaching into the pockets, he finds a note cover in strange symbols. He forgets about it as Sammy swings through the door.

The coat stays in his bag for years. Dean loses it one winter in Pontiac, Illinois.

 


End file.
